


of starving faithful

by alphaesque



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Fluff for Fluff's Sake, M/M, Missing Scene, Monty and Miller as the Golden Children
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-30
Updated: 2014-11-30
Packaged: 2018-02-27 12:27:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2692961
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alphaesque/pseuds/alphaesque
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I think I figured out a way to re-circuit the system and get us out of here.”</p><p>Monty’s mouth opens and closes a few times before shuts it with an audible click. Crouching down next to Miller, he shoves Miller's hands away and does a quick overview of what they’re working with. “Alright, I’m listening.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	of starving faithful

**Author's Note:**

> this all began with a tumblr prompt and now i'm full steam ahead S.S. Minty!!

"Okay, I only have a limited window before Frankendoc realizes I’ve left Jasper alone, so this better be good."

Miller looks up at Monty with a causal roll of his eyes before he gestures a wiring panel hidden inside of one of the floor tiles, “I think I figured out a way to re-circuit the system and get us out of here.”

Monty’s mouth opens and closes a few times before shuts it with an audible click. Crouching down next to Miller, he shoves Miller's hands away and does a quick overview of what they’re working with. “Alright, I’m listening.”

Miller lays out his plans as quickly as possible while Lionel and Keenan keep an eye out for any roaming guards. By the time he’s done, Monty’s eyes are shining with a foreign sense of hope. “So, do you think it’ll work?”

"I think you’ve been holding out on us, Nathan." Monty claps at Miller’s shoulder with a wide smile, one that Miller tentatively returns. There’s a shuffle of footsteps that has them breaking apart, a flush rising up the back of Monty’s neck despite the innocence of the situation while Miller’s head cants to the side, tracking the footsteps as they make their way down the corridor.

"It’s fine," Miller reassures him when he notices Monty’s fingers tap out a nervous rhythm against his pant leg, "They’re heading towards the mess hall."

A stilted silence settles between them for a moment before Monty speaks, his throat tight, tone ladened with anxiety and fear, “Do you think this will work? Do you think this will get us out of here?”  _Do you think this will bring us back to our people?_  is the answer he really wants to ask, and by the look on Miller’s face, it’s one he doesn’t have to.

“It’s all I can think of,” rubbing at the back of his neck, Miller casts his eyes upward, looking for a sun that isn’t there. “It’s our only chance.”

Monty nods, throat bobbing as he forces himself to swallow the bitter taste of doubt that’s burning acidly in his throat and meets Miller’s gaze dead-on. “Do you think she’s okay?”

“Of course she is,” his response is immediate and something passes across Monty’s face that looks akin to relief. “We are talking about Clarke, after all.”

Letting out a shuddered breath of relief through clenched teeth, Monty shoves his hands into his pockets and nods once again. “Do you think—”

“Yes,” there’s something in Miller’s gaze then, a perception of knowing that Monty can’t quite understand, but it’s steadfast and never wavers, so Monty lets himself believe that Miller is right, that Bellamy is alive and safe. That they’ll see both him and Clarke again.

“Knowing both Clarke and Bellamy, they’ve already found one another and are bickering as they make their way here to come get us,” Miller says through a stilted laugh, as if he had somehow read Monty’s thoughts. 

Monty chuckles at that and something loosens in his chest, allowing a rogue bud of hope to blossom behind the nervous rattlings of his ribs. “I’d expect nothing less of them.”

“ _Miller!_ ” Keenan’s warning comes a bit too late as she lets out a quiet yelp of surprise when a guard grabs her by the arm, immediately questioning her reasoning for being outside the area allotted for the remaining hundred.

Both Monty and Miller move at the same time, feet kicking at the floorboard until it’s slotted back in place just as a guard rounds the corner, making his way down the dimly lit hallway. 

Monty’s brain jolts, it’s wiring kicking into overdrive as solutions to their problems filter through his vision, flying at a rapid pace. Acting on impulse, he grabs Miller’s arm, pulling him until they’re pressed flush together and then suddenly his lips are on Miller’s and the guard’s initial protest dies into a weak sound of surprise.

He barely has time to gage the look on Miller’s face before he kisses him— it’s something short of surprise followed by a mix of alarm and knowing— but if Miller is taken aback by the kiss, he doesn’t show it. 

Instead, his hands make their way around Monty’s back, palms resting flatly against the base of Monty’s spine where his nails dig roughly into his thin layered shirt. 

Monty’s brain goes from severe overdrive to a dead sense of calm in less than ten-seconds. One moment, he’s firing with all cylinders at the ready, and the next, it’s a quiet ebb and flow of calm throughout his veins as Miller’s tongue traces its way across the chapped contours of Monty’s bottom lip.

Neither of them notice the sound of the guard’s annoyed hiss as he turns back around, footsteps dying away— only to be replaced quickly by a pair of hurried ones.

“Dude, come on,” Lionel lets out a loud, exasperated noise in Miller’s general direction, ignoring the flash of the bird that he gets in response. “We have to  _go_.”

“Nathan,” its Harper’s voice that fills the hallway causing the two to break apart. Her expression is flat and unamused, but the soft glint in her eyes gives away her silent mirth, “if we want this to work, we have to get ready. We don’t have much time.”

Monty clears his throat awkwardly, stepping away from Miller’s side with a shy upturn of his lips. “Yeah, I have to get back. Jasper is,” he doesn’t know how to say: ‘high on painkillers’ without saying, well,  _‘high on painkillers’_  so instead he gives them a vague hand gesture that seems to do the trick because everyone simultaneously rolls their eyes in response. “So…yeah, there’s that.”

Keenan’s response is to blow air loudly out of her nose in annoyance at the situation in general, “I, personally, cannot wait until we get out of here and he’s back to being Clarke and Bellamy’s problem.” Her eyes cut to Miller, who’s jaw ticks in warning, causing her to smile sheepishly at Monty, “No offense or anything. I mean I like Jasper but he’s been a bit…”

Monty waves off her apology with a sigh, “Trust me, I know.”

“God, can you imagine Bellamy’s face when he hears what Jasper’s been up to?” Lionel sniggers into his hand while Harper bats at his shoulder in reprimand, “I would not want to be a fly on that wall.”

“Let’s just make sure we get out of here first,” Miller slants Monty a telltale look that means: ‘we’ll continue this later’ before he straightens his shoulders and adorns the same persona Monty had seen him wearing before Clarke had shut the dropship’s doors. 

_There’s a reason Miller’s Bellamy’s second-in-command,_  Monty thinks as he follows Miller wordlessly down the hallway,  _which is alarming, but also extremely attractive._

And…if they do make it back to Clarke and Bellamy, Monty figures he’s going to have to take a breather, maybe isolate himself with the radios and Raven for a bit, because he’s so incredibly  _fucked_.

Quietly, they make their way down the hallway and towards the apex that stands between the mess hall and the elevator leading up to the medical tower.

With a wave over her shoulder, Harper leads Lionel and Keenan away, shushing them as she does so.

Waiting until they’ve disappeared around the corner, Miller then steps back into Monty’s personal space, kissing him chastely while Monty stands, arms hanging limply at his sides, brain going traitorously numb when Miller swipes his tongue once more along Monty’s bottom lip before pulling back.

“Get Jasper out, okay?” Miller’s voice is uncharacteristically quiet and Monty has to blink a few times, his mind kicking it’s way back up into high gear, pulse rattling loudly in his ears, before he manages to nod. “I don’t care if you have to drag his ass out, do it.” Miller huffs, eyes darting around the room, taking in every inch of space as if they’re preparing for yet another attack— in some ways, Monty supposes they are.

“He won’t leave Maya.” Monty loves his best friend, honestly. Jasper is a vital part of him, like a limb or an organ that you can’t take out and donate. He loves every part of Jasper— even the parts of him that fall head-over-heels in love with a girl he’s known for maybe a week— but that doesn’t mean he can’t be annoyed with his best friend’s life choices. Such as risky blood transfusions and refusals to go after Clarke, to name a few.

“Then bring her if you have to,” there’s a swift tap at the end of the hall, a warning signal that its time to move from Harper probably, and Miller shoves his hands back into his pockets, attempting to look as casual and as happy-to-be-in-Mt. Weather as possible. “Just as long as he comes along. The last thing we need is to explain to Clarke why Jasper isn’t with us.”

Monty pictures her reaction— hurt, confusion, anger, loss— and then quickly wipes it from his mind. He’d rather drag Maya along with them if that meant a happy Clarke, then have to face the alternative situation. “Okay.”

“Remember, when you hear the fire alarm,  _run_. Meet us at the bottom stairwell, from there it’s just two stairways down and we’re home free.”

Pushing the up button for the elevator, Monty hums in understanding and allows himself a moment to study Miller, taking in the tightness around his eyes and the stiffness in his stance. Reaching out, he squeezes Miller’s bicep gently, hoping that the touch does something to reassure their temporary leader. “We’re going to make it out of here. We’re going to find Clarke and Bellamy, and Octavia and Raven, and we’re going to go home.”

The tightness around Miller’s eyes lessens, if only for a moment, before the elevator dings and Monty finds himself being gently pushed inside. “I’ll see you soon.”

“Yeah,” Monty digs his nails into his palm and musters up all of the courage he’s accumulated since landing on the ground— since becoming a part of something more— and swallows the rest of his fear away, “you will.”


End file.
